Killer Beach Reads

by Gemma Halliday Publishing

  Good afternoon to you too, Beelzebub.

  "Here's the address of the Chases' cottage and a few phone numbers, in case of emergency only." She pointed to a piece of paper on her desk. I leaned in and picked it up. "The family room, kitchen, and downstairs bath will be the only rooms available to you. Make sure you scrub them spotless before you leave. The local realtor will send someone over with the key before ten on Monday morning. Make sure you're there to meet her. You will be held liable for any breakage, theft, or damage during your stay."

  She stopped talking and resumed her work of making others miserable. Just in case she barked at me again, I stared at the wall for a minute. There was a framed insignia hung there, maybe Greek frat letters or an inkblot of a spider devouring a hot fudge sundae. My mind wandered back forty years and imagined Everett Chase as a young pledge candidate, with questionable virility, eating raw animal guts to prove his stamina to his future frat brothers. The inner door opened and the current version of Mr. Chase stepped out. Tall, distinguished, impeccably dressed with an old money smell about him.

  "Yes, Ev?" a softer sweeter tone emanated from the icy Bea as she addressed her boss.

  My jaw dropped at the slip of her mask with a hint of humanity shining through the bared teeth. She followed his stare to me and rose from her chair like a thunderhead ready to smite me.

  "Did you need something, Miss Strom?" he asked me.

  Bea and I froze in our opposing spots, me as the sacred bunny and her as the hungry fox.

  "No sir, I was collecting the information about your lake cottage. I won your wife's raffle." I smiled at my rescuer.

  "I've been going to Pierre Lake since I was a child," he said with a hint of bittersweet memories.

  "Sounds lovely, thank you very much," I said as I nodded to him and left.

  I hurried down the hall, just in case Bea flung a ninja star at my head.

  Two female paralegals lingered by my desk. They were always together like misshaped bookends. Their names blended too, Betsy and Wetsy or Bitsy and Twitsy.

  "You won the Chases' cottage?" the tall one with the thin ruby red lips asked.

  "Yes, I did."

  "Hope you like ghosts," the short one with the plump pink lips said as they cackled and strolled away.

  Dimmer and Slimmer loved to make jokes no one else understood. It made them feel superior and look ridiculous at the same time. Quite a feat and made their parents proud.

  I spent the weekend cleaning my apartment and packing for my trip to a place beyond my pay grade. The building manager was set to collect my mail. I researched Ishawa, Wisconsin. It was known for a man-made lake and sky-high real estate prices. The homes were named instead of numbered. Quaint for those familiar with the town, annoying for people forced to visit. Hollow Cove, the Chase estate, sat overlooking the shore of Pierre Lake.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Due to Monday morning rush hour traffic it took three hours to travel from Chicago to Ishawa, instead of two. Once there, I couldn't find Pierre Lake. In Chicago, it was impossible to miss the lake, just drive east. Here it was a man-made dot in the forest, only visible from the air. A shiny pickup truck pulled up next to my second-hand, paint-chipped compact car on the one lane road.

  "Are you lost?" the male driver asked.

  "No."

  I kept my eyes on the road and pulled forward trying to find a signal for my phone's network service.

  "You act lost." He brought his truck to a crawl to keep pace with me.

  "Thanks for the observation. Please drive around." I didn't want to attract attention, just serve my four days in solitude.

  "You are definitely from Chicago. They never ask for directions and are suspicious of everyone."

  "Nice blanket accusation. Now if you'll excuse me."

  I finally stopped and turned toward my helpful stranger. Sandy brown hair, emerald green eyes, and luscious lips surrounded an adorable crooked smile. My forced trip north took a wonderful turn for the better, unless he was married. I craned my neck to scan his left hand for a ring. Not always accurate but a start.

  "I'm Ryan Thorn, website designer, volunteer fire chief, and amateur historian of Ishawa. Are you looking for a house or a family?"

  I found him so my sense of direction improved by the minute.

  "I'm Gretchen Strom and I won a stay at the Chases' lake house for most of the week."

  "When did they get generous?" he asked with a tone of disbelief.

  "Maybe they lost a bet."

  "Why didn't you come over the weekend?"

  "Because I was given Monday to Thursday. Now, if there are no more questions, where the hell is Hollow Cove?"

  "Follow me." He laughed as he pulled in front of me and drove on.

  I was less than a mile away from my destination. Although without street signs or visible addresses, I would have never found it. A silver hatchback car sat in the driveway. A twenty-something woman wearing a tight, short red skirt and a white blouse over her voluptuous bust with the buttons about to pop leaned against the hood. We parked on the side of the road, and my navigator and I emerged from our modes of transportation. He stepped in front of me, and I got a better look at my human compass: tall and muscular in all the right places. His worn thin T-shirt clung to a sculpted six-pack and a pair of jeans outlined his thighs and well-toned butt. He turned, interrupted my assessment, and smiled. Upon further review, there were no wrong places on him.

  "Finally, I've been waiting for an hour. Mrs. Chase left me the key." The woman tossed the chain at me, but Ryan caught it and held it out to me.

  His callused palm felt warm under my fingertips, sending a sweet tingle down my spine. The key keeper circled around us and approached him.

  "Hey, Joy, moonlighting as a house sitter?" he asked.

  "Hey, yourself. Mrs. Chase called the real estate office and Tess sent me out here. Why haven't you been to The Shady Saloon lately? You afraid of another pool challenge?" She ran her hand up his arm.

  "You're a born hustler, Joy. Too good for me." He shifted his shoulder, and her hand fell away from him.

  "You need to unwind, get some exercise." Joy stepped closer, oblivious to the hint.

  "I swim every morning in the lake." He shifted his line of vision and stared at me. "Care to join me tomorrow?"

  Joy misunderstood and thought the invitation was extended to her. Or was I wrong?

  "The water's too cold for me, but I love the beach at night. Spread out a blanket in the sand, sip some wine, and watch the stars." Joy took his hand and smiled.

  Unsure of his attention, I took my cue to leave the one-sided groping couple and retrieve my luggage from the trunk. I pulled a pillow, blanket, and towels from the back seat. I packed books, bug spray, my knitting bag, my tablet, and three bottles of sunscreen SPF 70 lotion. A few changes of clothes, sunglasses, and a floppy hat rounded out my belongings. I meant to stop at a local grocery store but hadn't seen one as I crisscrossed the wilderness. Suddenly, Joy stormed up to her car, whipped the door open, and gunned it down the driveway.

  Ryan joined me in the street and hefted my bags out of the car.

  "What did you say to the bundle named Joy?" I asked.

  "I told her to stop wasting her time on me. I'm too old and not interested."

  "How old, and don't you like girls?"

  "Thirty, and I prefer women." He held my stare for a few precious seconds. "How about dinner tonight?"

  "I didn't bring any food."

  "Then you'll need lunch, too."

  He strolled up the steps to my temporary home. A two-story, white, wooden structure that hopped out of an ultimate abode ad. I put the key in the lock and it didn't move. Ryan tried—it didn't budge. He picked up my bags and walked around the back of the house. I followed and hoped he didn't plan to break in.

  "The lady of the house dropped off a back door key," he said as he inserted it in the lock.

  But, of course, I was the hired help, even on vacation.

/>   We stepped in a small mudroom, turned, and I let out a slow whistle. Even if I was banished to the dungeon of the house, I'd never seen such a glorious family room. The walls were a pale blue and the windows faced the lake. A hearth with a stone fireplace took up another wall. In the middle of the smooth rock mantel sat a carved clock. Almost a foot tall, a maiden stood above the face with feathers or wings decorating the sides and legs of the clock. It gave the room an ethereal feeling of communing with the earth, sky, and water. A full nature experience brought indoors. The furniture consisted of couches and recliners all overstuffed for maximum comfort.

  "I'm impressed," I said as I set the linens on the couch.

  "You're supposed to be—now where do you want your stuff?"

  "Anywhere is fine." He let go of the handles and both bags slumped to the floor.

  I remembered one of Bea's threats about damage and hustled over to make sure the wood wasn't scuffed. Ryan raised his hands in surrender.

  "I'm sorry, but I'm responsible for every dust mote for the four days I'm here."

  "Sounds like a fun vacation. Is this your bed for the duration?" Ryan asked as he plopped down on the couch.

  Unless I fit in the kitchen sink, I'd say yes. He looked comfortable as he snuggled up with my pillow and blanket. My libido urged me to join him—my brain suggested I size up the bathtub.

  "You look confused," he said.

  Better than needy.

  "I'm going to check out the kitchen." I spun around and headed back through the mudroom.

  Gleaming white cabinets and shiny steel appliances greeted me. I paused and considered the fingerprints I would leave on everything. I wrapped a paper towel around my hand and checked a drawer for cooking utensils. I planned to boil up a pot of macaroni, cut up some veggies, pour on oil and vinegar, and live on pasta salad for the four days. No pots and pans or silverware in the drawers. Did they think I would steal something or they had no use for the mundane activities of cooking and eating at home? I didn't budget for takeout every day.

  "I doubt Jane remembers how to pour water into a glass, let alone cook. When the Chases are in residence, they dine at the golf club two towns over." Ryan opened the refrigerator door. It was empty and dark. "You're in luck because the firehouse offers a free lunch to first-time visitors. It's Monday, so I hope you like chili dogs."

  "Thanks. Is there a grocery store nearby?"

  "Yeah, hop in my truck, and let's go."

  "I can drive."

  "I know, I saw you, but you get lost easily. It will be quicker for me to drive plus I'm hungry, so hurry up." He opened the back door and beckoned me to join him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The fire station was a ranch house with a sparkling red fire truck parked in front. A few older men sat on the front porch in matching white polos, listening to a baseball game. Ryan introduced me, and then we proceeded to the kitchen. The game blared in there, too. Ryan turned down the volume and pointed at the man stirring a pot on the stove.

  "I'm listening to that, Thorn," he said as he replaced the lid on the pot.

  "I have a better use for your attention, Gretchen Strom meet Josh Larson."

  "A pretty lady surpasses all except the World Series," he said as he wiped his hands on a dish towel then extended one to me.

  "Nice to meet you, I'm here to beg for food." I shook his hand.

  "My kitchen is always open to a weary traveler," Josh said as he handed me a plate.

  "Thank you." Ryan stood behind me and grabbed a plate for himself.

  I started the assembly line: buns, hot dogs, chili, cheese, onions, and potato chips.

  "May I have a knife and fork?" I asked Josh.

  "To eat a chili dog? That's un-American. Next, you'll be asking for a napkin," Ryan said.

  "They're messy, and I don't want to drop the chili in my lap."

  "Gretchen, please excuse Ryan, he rarely sets foot into civilization. Thankfully, we're not all barbarians around here," Josh said as he handed me silverware wrapped in a red-and-white checked cloth napkin.

  The other men filed in, each one grabbing a napkin along with their food.

  "What's next, showering and shaving every day?" Ryan asked as he begrudgingly took a napkin.

  "You don't?" I asked as I sidestepped him.

  "I meant them," he said to the men's backs as they strolled out the door.

  "Sure you did," I said.

  I sat down at the metal folding table and started to eat. Josh joined me, and Ryan sat across from me.

  "I get no respect in this town," Ryan said.

  "You should move," Josh said with a smile. "So Gretchen, what brings you to Ishawa?"

  "I'm staying in part of the Chases' home. Mrs. Chase raffled it off in a fundraiser for her granddaughter's school."

  "Odd. Jane Chase hates the house, the town, and everyone who lives here," Josh said.

  "It must be a tax write-off of some kind," Ryan said after finishing his chili dog.

  "That makes sense. Didn't Jane try to sell it two years ago?" Josh asked.

  "No, she tried to donate it to the town and make it a village hall or something," Ryan said as he refilled his plate. "Everett stopped the plan. I don't know why; they're rarely here."

  "Maybe he's saving it for his son," I said after I wiped the chili remnants off my mouth with my napkin.

  "Good way to burn Jane," Josh said as he stood up to get more food. "Aubrey is Everett's son, Jane's the stepmom."

  Seriously?

  I looked at the older firemen assembled there. Good thing I wasn't nosy, but if they wanted to share a tidbit or seven, I wouldn't complain.

  "His mom's from a small town not too far from the Dells." Ryan leaned back in his chair and called out. "Hey Buster, who's Aubrey Chase's mom?"

  A stooped man came back in the house with his empty plate.

  "The name was familiar, her dad travelled around fixing appliances. Sometimes she rode with him. Gimme a minute and it will come to me." Buster paused, closed his eyes, and set his plate on the counter. A few minutes passed, and he snapped his fingers. "Mother listed as Beatrice McGuire."

  Say what?

  I gulped my iced tea and started to choke.

  Ryan hoisted me up out of my chair, doubled his fist, and prepared do the Heimlich maneuver on me.

  "It's the damn hot dogs, people gag on them every day," Ryan said as he positioned his hands to push.

  I pulled away, coughing and gasping for air. I waved off Buster and Josh, too.

  "I'm fine," I said in a raspy voice.

  I hobbled back to my seat and took a long sip.

  "Are you sure?" Ryan asked as he rested his hand on my shoulder.

  Better and better as my body warmed to his touch. I nodded, and he sat back down, taking his hand with him. Too bad I recovered quickly.

  I conjured up Aubrey's picture from his website. Artsy and grainy. His bald spot shone through past the beard and overbite. Who would have guessed Busy Bea did the deed and forgot to seal the records? Stunned didn't even begin to describe my feelings. I had some dirt and needed an opportune moment to drop it on Bea's desk. In exchange for my silence, I'd take a raise, a promotion, and access to the entire Chase house. Wonder if Ryan could be persuaded to be my cabana boy?

  "Where are you from, Gretchen?" Josh asked.

  "Duluth, Minnesota. I moved to Chicago because of its warmer climate."

  "Wise choice. Have you heard of Florida and Arizona?" Ryan asked as he wiped his hand with a napkin.

  "Yes, but both a little pricey right now. I had a roommate, but she got married a few months ago. I lost my newspaper job two years ago, went back to school to finish my degree, and landed at Chase & Associates. I cruise the internet for other jobs, but there aren't many in my field."

  "What's your field?" Ryan asked.

  "Art history, my specialty is South American artists. Chase represents a few museums."

  I checked out the client manifest and had noted certain names.
If any of them came in for a meeting, I hoped to detain and dazzle them with my knowledge and expertise. Or make sure the coffee pot stayed full in the conference room. I could reach out to my former boss, Alexia Cobb who married a famous artist. Benjamin Nance Cobb opened a museum in Chicago to celebrate his mother's work. I didn't want to intrude, plus when the newspaper management team let her go, I landed her job. I fudged my resume a bit, got a nice raise, and all the raw cookie dough I could eat. After they found out I couldn't cook, I was shipped out, too. I hadn't spoken to Alexia since, not even sure she'd remember me.

  "What's your dream job?" Josh asked.

  "Museum acquisitions or auction house cataloger."

  "Then, your job at Chase is temporary," Ryan said.

  "I hope."

  I debated getting more food, but Josh didn't have me in his original lunch count.

  "Have another dog, we're not having dinner until six or so," Ryan said.

  My mind reader made the decision for me. I went back to the kitchen for another chili dog. One of the men from the porch finished scooping chili in a bowl.

  "You're out at the Chase place?" he asked.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Well don't mind Amanda. She won't hurt you; she's just lonely," he said as he got a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

  "Who's Amanda?"

  "A sad gal who may be looking for a shoulder to cry on, hangs out by the Chases' pier." He moseyed back to the porch.

  I settled a hot dog in a bun and went back to my seat. I'd ask Ryan about Amanda on the ride back to the house.

  He and Josh were talking about the weather when I sat down again.

  "Last year, the polar vortex froze the lake solid. We played hockey every day like when we were kids. We had to use pick axes and sledge hammers to chisel off enough ice for our charity Plunge in Pierre event. Spring came and flooding followed, the lake is still a few inches higher. Some fun stuff washed up on shore like three bikini tops, a football, and a beer keg," Ryan said to me between bites.

  "All suspected property of Ryan Thorn," Josh said.

  "Still searching for the owners of the tops, but I'll find them," Ryan said with a smile.